Monday 26 September 2011

Absolut Salamanca


Welcome to La Chupiteria. At one euro a shot, this is the indisputable starting point for a great night out in Salamanca, the defining place where salamantinos and students alike gather first- shot glasses lined up along the bar ready to unlock the evening’s potential. Don’t arrive here expecting a chic glass of wine or a traditional pint- instead, La Chupiteria exclusively serves chupitos- and lots and lots of them. The menu (if you can call it that, in truth it’s more a roll call that spells disaster) does not disappoint. From tequila and whisky to rum and absinthe, just name it and there’ll be some potent cocktail that is guaranteed to burn your throat and/or delete your memory. Sure, the floors are revoltingly sticky so perhaps wear some stubborn shoes (mine fought a losing battle with the dancefloor) and the iconic neon signs are painfully tacky, yet this is the absolute hub of Salamancan nightlife- the proper life and soul of the fiesta. La Chupiteria may be tiny, but the bartenders are a laugh, the trashy music is so Eurotastic that it would be useless to fight it, and the party atmosphere is always loud and infectious. Begin the night here, and you’re certain to enjoy a good time in Salamanca. Some tried-and-tested advice: if you really want your night to end with a blank, order the Diablo Verde. Turns out it’s not named after the devil for nothing. 

Wednesday 14 September 2011

Ready to Fiesta


So, here I am in Salamanca. Completely off-the-beaten-track, this city may be small and cobbled, but what it lacks in proportion it most definitely makes up for in pure, plucky spirit. Before I arrived in the city (for the next few months, I will recklessly put my embarrassingly rusty Spanish skills to the test at language school), I knew Salamanca only as the birthplace of castellaño, the “purest” spoken Spanish, and as the home to the Western world’s third oldest university. Interesting facts perhaps, but hardly gems that have tourists reaching for their passports. Yet Salamanca does not disappoint. By a complete stroke of luck, I have arrived during what Salamantinos call Las Ferias y Fiestas- a selection of cultural events, concerts and fascinating spectacles that celebrate the city’s patron saint Santa María de la Vega between the 7th and 15th of September. By night, the main square in the city’s absolute heart, La Plaza Mayor, lights up as various acts take to a vast stage and play long into the evening. Last night, the (apparently) internationally-renowned DJ Carlos Jean played to a packed square that seemed to descend into a bit of an outdoor rave, with locals, students and tourist alike all dancing with abandon. Admittedly, this Carlos Jean didn’t seem to do very much- if interspersing a few chart hits by the likes of Rihanna with some remixed classics such as Blur’s Song 2 counts as DJ-ing, then anyone can be a Fat Boy Slim- yet the crowd definitely appreciated it, going wild until the square pulsated with an infectious energy. Throw in a couple of huge dancing lego robots (genuinely), a few cañas and some vibrant lasers, and Salamanca had a proper fiesta. Every street has a tiny something to offer, from stalls selling Spanish tapas called pinchos (at about 1.80 for a pincho and two drinks, you’re laughing) to La Corrida del Toros at the city’s edge, a traditional spectacle that I have yet to brave. This fascinating little city may still be fairly new to me, but already I can see why it is a popular university in Spain- the fiestas just don’t stop, and even during the afternoon various concerts resound within the packed Plaza Mayor. So, if you are ever interested in visiting this esoteric city, then September is undoubtedly the time to come- just be prepared to fight your way through throbbing streets.


Sunday 4 September 2011

Riding out the storm

As the serpentine Lord Voldemort, Ralph Fiennes proved he can brandish a wand with malicious intent. Now, as he steps into the shoes of one of the literary grandfathers of nuanced magic, Shakespeare’s Prospero, it’s clear that Fiennes can summon up even greater powers. Headlining Trevor Nunn’s strictly-limited run of The Tempest, he quietly commands the stage- delivering Prospero’s rich monologues with a brilliantly subtle conviction. It’s not an overstated performance, as the character of Prospero tends to be with all its emphasis on magic and vengeance, and I think it works well within Nunn’s somewhat anachronistic approach to the play’s staging. This is a production that relies less on a hi-tech bag of tricks to create illusion than on aerial pulleys upon which acrobatic cast members pivot and fly above the stage- an unusual throwback to an Elizabethan system of wires and winches that is refreshing in our technological age. Yet although Nunn’s play is grounded in tradition, I felt the opening tempest itself was disappointingly unconvincing- as if the sound effect box was at its lowest volume. Given that this is the eponymous tempest, it was not nearly dramatic enough and, in my opinion, a hugely imbalanced spectacle. Quieter moments could have benefitted from a few better-timed violent thunderclaps, whilst the ones that did boom and crash served only to drown out some of the script’s key lines. The projection of moving waves, with the actors acrobatically spinning in tandem behind, seemed a bit flat- imaginative circus acts may be entertaining, but they do not whip up a credible storm. Later, the visionary dogs that hound Stephano, Trinculo and Caliban seemed almost laughable as cast members pounced onstage on all fours-another instance when a bit of CGI wouldn’t have gone amiss. The age-old problem with Shakespeare is how difficult it is to be inventive- and I felt that Nunn lacked fresh inspiration. Technology aside, though, Nunn returns to the kernel of reconciliation and amnesty at the play’s heart- in its own way, this is what is truly refreshing about the production. Prospero is, above all, the father to Miranda- and much is made of this raw human relationship, a thoroughly modern take on what is essentially a wronged single parent preparing to relinquish his only child to a restorative marriage. The other cast members brilliantly help to weave this very human element. Nicholas Lyndhurst, aka Rodney from Only Fools and Horses, gets second billing as the hapless court jester Trinculo. Although odd that this role should be made so prominent, given that he has so few lines, Lyndhurst’s comic timing is spot on, especially when paired with the inebriated Stephano. Tom Byam Shaw does a sprightly, if somewhat camp, turn as the spirit Ariel (I couldn't help being reminded strongly of Zoolander). A little controversially, but perhaps not surprisingly, Nunn has exploited the play’s central colonialist theme too, casting the play’s only black actor Giles Terera as the enslaved Caliban. It’s a brave move but one that works- Terera performs the role of the bitterly tormented monster with moving pathos and, although he is supposedly “misshapen”, his six-pack looked just fine from where I was sitting. For all this great acting, though, when Prospero finally delivers the well-known epilogue, it’s welcome relief from a play that does tend to drag its feet. Fiennes powerfully begs our indulgence and, as he slowly exits the bare stage through a simple wooden door, it’s clear that this is the calm after the storm. The chance to see the magnificent Fiennes onstage is rare- so if you can get tickets for this extremely limited season, then do. Sadly, though, this production doesn’t quite conjure up modern magic, even with Voldemort in its midst. 

Saturday 3 September 2011

Digital Dining

As a self-confessed foodie, the concept behind Inamo, the futuristic restaurant on Regent Street, seemed too good to resist. Here was an interactive dinner invitation- instead of crisply tailored waiters, the table and menu  are electronic- with an image of each dish projected onto your clean white plate from above. At the click of a button, your order is placed. Minutes later, a waiter materialises from nowhere to serve your food before quietly retreating. No fuss, no embarrassing arm waves to grab the waiter’s attention- just pure restaurant magic. Sure, the whole dining experience is reduced to being somewhat impersonal, and our silent waiter didn’t really merit a large tip, but who really cares when you can play battleships at the table? It was like eating on a giant iPad- fun, a winning novelty. We set the ambience (during the course of the meal, our ‘tablecloth’ went through numerous changes as we played around, from psychedelic swirls of purple and green to more serene images of lakes and snow-covered forests) and, when conversation lagged, there was sneaky “chef cam”- a voyeuristic peek at the kitchen. Handy if you want to check the hygiene standards, not so great when you happen to catch two chefs mid-argument. Digital dining aside, the food itself is actually quite good. I was worried it would turn out to be like Yo Sushi, novelty service yet mediocre food. Instead, the food is a fusion of Pan-Asian flavours, with dishes that include hot stone rib eye steak, black cod and miso-grilled seabass. It isn’t quite Nobu but is delicious nonetheless (although watch out for the insanely spicy Thai beef salad which definitely knocked out my tastebuds). Given that the portions were tiny, the menu is perhaps a little overpriced (something the food does share in common with Nobu after all). The bill aside, however, Inamo is definitely worth a visit purely for its kitsch eating experience. The clever table can even order you a taxi. Just be careful when you excitedly play with all the buttons as we accidentally ended up with a few extra dishes... 

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